


Harem Blues

by Levis_turtles



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Author Was Literally Working Off Of One (1) Picture Of Lotor To Write This Whole Thing, Diverges after season 2, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lance is a Babe, Lance is and Angel, Lotor is a Babe, M/M, Minerva is an Angel, Slow Burn, Written before season 3, captive au, harem au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-09-19 20:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9460208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levis_turtles/pseuds/Levis_turtles
Summary: When the Galra attack the ship, and Lance is taken captive, he finds himself some place entirely unexpected...PSA: LANCE IS NOT THE VICTIM OF THE NON-CON!! THE NON-CON IS NOT GRAPHICALLY DESCRIBED, ONLY MENTIONED!!





	1. Chapter 1

“Shit shit shit.” Lance dragged Allura down the hall, frequently casting glances behind him at their Galran pursuers. He knew where he was going – there was a door at the end of the corridor made from steel five inches thick.

If they could just make it to that door…

“Lance, where are you taking me?” Allura cried. She twisted her wrist in Lance’s hand, but he couldn’t risk her getting free.

“I know what I’m doing,” Lance said. “You’re just gonna have to trust me, okay?”

Pidge had built a secondary escape measure into this section of the ship, and as far as Lance knew, no one besides the two of them knew it was there. They made it to the door, and Lance pulled Allura through. He closed the door behind him, and twisted the lock.

“That ought to buy us some time,” he said.

“Time for what?” Allura gave one last pull against Lance’s hand, and he let her go. There were red marks around her wrists; Lance knew they would bruise – Coran was going to kill him for it – but at least she was safe. “Lance, I am the princess of Altea, and I demand to know what’s going on!”

“You’re getting out of here,” Lance said. “If they catch you, they’ll kill you, and then where will we be? No wormholes, and no-”

“Blue paladin,” Allura finished. “What do you mean _I’m_ getting out of here, singular? Where will you be?”

“The escape pod has to be launched from the outside,” said Lance. 

“Then we find some other way. There’s-”

“No,” Lance said. “You are more important than I am. We’re here now, you can escape.”

“And leave you behind to die?”

“I’ll be fine,” Lance said. “I’m not gonna let some Galra kill me now – I’m finally figuring out that new crochet pattern Coran gave me.”

“Lance-”

“I know, I know.” Lance hiked his voice up an octave, “Now is not the time for jokes, Paladin.”

“I don’t sound like that!”

“Look, Allura, one of us is going to die today, okay? And I sure as hell am not about to let it be you.”

“Lance, you don’t-!”

Whatever she had been about to say was cut off when something collided with the other side of the door. Lance jumped, and saw that the metal had been dented in the shape of two large, clawed hands. 

The Galra had never boarded the ship before, so none of the paladins even thought to consider the possibility that the new leader of the Galra, Prince Lotor, might have more tactical finesse than his father until it was too late.

Allura gripped Lance’s arm, “You are not less important than me, Lance.” Lance met her eyes, and was shocked at the intensity shaking inside them. “You are a paladin of Voltron and, more than that, you are my _friend_. I will not leave you behind.” 

Lance covered Allura’s hand with his own. He said, “There’s a thousand of me out there, Allura. Maybe more. But there’s only one of you.” Lance glanced to Allura’s side – the release button for the escape mechanism was just to her left, and if Lance could only-

Allura seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. “Lance, no!”

But it was too late. Lance’s hand crashed down on the button, and the last expression he saw on Allura’s face was not one of anger, or betrayal, or even relief – it was grief. Lance smiled, thin lipped and forced, as he watched the escape pod rise up around Allura, and drop her through the ground to safety.

Another crash sounded against the door, and when Lance looked, there was barely any of it left at all. Long claw marks drove trenches through what little metal still remained, and Lance gulped. He backed up a step, and another, watching the torrent of clawed fingers tear at the metal like it was no more than a sheet of paper.

“What’s going on?” Shiro asked, his frantic voice in Lance’s ear making him jump. “We saw an escape pod leaving the palace. Who’s in there?”

“Allura,” Lance said, voice breaking. “She’s safe, I got her out.”

Something in Lance’s voice must have struck Shiro, because he said, “You’re not on the pod, are you?” 

Lance shook his head, “No. I’m not. I told her I’d hold them off, and-”

The last scrap of the door flew away, the obliterated metal flying halfway across the room before it skidded to a halt at Lance’s feet. Lance looked up, saw the angry Galra faces, and gulped.

“At the risk of sounding like a total idiot, may I quote Keith in saying that it’s been a honour flying with you boys.” 

Shiro said, “Lance, you-” 

“Take care of Blue for me.” And before they could reply, Lance disconnected his helmet, and cut himself off – whatever happened next, Lance didn’t want them to have to hear it.

Six Galra soldiers marched through the door, stood sentinel around a final, seventh figure. They were the tallest Galra Lance had ever seen, broad-shouldered and long-legged, probably the best the Galran military had to offer.

Lance stood tall, straightening his back in that way the Garrison had taught him, and waited for the soldiers to come to him. They swept over the floor with practiced grace, and Lance waited for the guards to disperse before meeting the eyes of the man in the middle.

“Prince Lotor, I presume,” Lance said. The Prince was shorter than the soldiers, and less protected – the only armour he really wore was a breastplate that honestly looked more like decoration than anything else. His hair was long, and white, and a short flash of pain spiked through Lance’s chest as he realised this prince looked quite a lot like Allura.

The prince raised his eyebrows, “The blue paladin.”

Lance smiled, “Hi.”

“The correct response would be to bow,” Lotor said, voice cold and hard and everything that Allura was not.

“Well forgive me if I don’t.” Lance looked Lotor up and down. “I don’t exactly want to spend my last moments bowing down to the guy who’s gonna lob my head off my shoulders.”

Lotor frowned, “Who said anything about killing you?”

“I made an educated guess,” said Lance. “You’re going to ask me where Princess Allura is, and I’m not going to tell you, so then you’re going to get mad, and command one of your goons over there to kill me.”

Lotor narrowed his eyes, curiously. “Is that so?”

“Well, it’s either that, or,” Lance stuffed his hands into his pockets, leaning back on his heels, “you’re gonna set me free.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a sucker for blue eyes?” Lance batted his eyelashes; Lotor didn’t look impressed.

“I am not concerned with the whereabouts of the princess,” Lotor said. “I came here for a paladin.” 

Lance’s heard dropped out of his chest. “A what?”

“You see,” Lotor said, “without all five paladins, Voltron cannot be formed. If I killed one, the remaining four could just go out and find a replacement. But, if I let the paladin live-”

Lance didn’t like where this was going.

“The blue lion won’t bond with another if her current paladin is still alive,” Lotor said. “Which is why I am here. Which is why I am glad that you are here, too.” Lotor glanced at the man to his left:

“You know what to do.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t/w mentions of rape

Lance had had a few ideas about what exactly was to become of him as he was being dragged through the Galra ship. His favourites included classics such as being thrown into a dungeon to live amongst the rats without any semblance of a realistic skincare routine, getting stuffed into chains and being put to work as some kind of slave, or being used as target practice for a number of Galra who should not have access to such painful weapons.

The men at Lance’s sides were silent until they reached a tall door that seemed too beautifully carved to be the barrier between where they were and a stank-ass dungeon. Lance felt a tiny bit of relief seep in. 

The tallest guard knocked on the door, and a moment later, it opened.

Lance had to blink to be sure he wasn’t dreaming.

Stood before them, one hand poised over a perfectly rounded hip, was the most beautiful Galra Lance had ever seen. He hadn’t even known that there were girl Garla – although, he probably should have - but he was suddenly astonishingly glad that there were. 

The girl looked at the first guard, then the second, before letting her eyes fall to Lance. “What’s this?” She asked.

“New toy,” the tall guard grunted. He let go of Lance’s arm, and he fell to his knees.

“Ow.”

“The prince wants him cleaned up within the hour,” the shorter Galra said. “Someone will be by to pick up then.”

“Is there any particular style that the prince would like?” The girl asked.

Lance felt the shorter Galra’s eyes on the back of his head. “Just do your best with what you’ve got – he’s not expecting much.”

The girl nodded, and with a final look at the guards, dropped to her knees to help Lance to his feet. “Don’t mind them,” she said. “They’re paid to act like jerks.”

Lance smiled, dusting himself off when she let go of his arm. Her hands had been warm against his skin; Lance wondered if elevated body temperature was a Galra thing – it would explain why Keith was always so warm.

“I’m used to people like that,” Lance said. “There’s no bully as bad as a little sister.”

The girl snorted, “I hear that.” She took a step back, into the room. “Come on – let’s get you cleaned up, before Tiny comes back.”

Lance frowned, “Tiny?”

“Prince Lotor,” the girl explained. “He’s never touched any of us before, and we assumed it was because he’s,” she glanced down, pointedly, “you know. Tiny.”

“What do you mean he’s never touched any of you?” Lance asked. He glanced around the room, absorbing the sight of dozens of impossibly beautiful aliens of species and genders. “What is this place?”

“Prince Lotor’s harem,” the girl replied.

Lance’s mind went blank.

_Oh, quiznak._

“There’s no need to look so worried,” the girl said, noticing Lance’s expression. “He won’t use you – he doesn’t use any of us. Sometimes he picks one of us out to go to parties with him, but that’s just a formality.”

“So, if he doesn’t use you, why does he keep you?”

The girl shrugged, “I wish I knew – not that I mind. It’s safe here. We’re fed, clothed, and treated with respect. Well, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Lotor is good to us, it’s just-” she looked down at the ground. “The others can be brutal.” Lance was silent, and she seemed to take that as an invitation to go on. “When foreign dignitaries come, one of us is often presented as a gift. Some of them aren’t kind to us.” 

Lance felt anger churning in his stomach. “Have you told Lotor?”

“What?”

“Well, he sounds like he cares about you all,” Lance said. “I doubt he’d be too happy to learn that his friends have been hurting you.”

“Oh, no,” she said. “That’s our job. We’re here to cater to the needs of those who command us, and-”

“What do they ask you to do?” Lance asked.

The girl frowned, “Lots of things. Some like to beat us, some like to take knives and- well, see for yourself.” She put a hand to her shoulder and pushed down her sleeve, revealing a row of jagged, purple scars. 

“They cut you?”

“Some men like to see blood when they- use us. It’s a power thing – it’s fairly common for Galra. But, you’re not Galra, are you?”

“I’m human,” Lance said. “The name’s Lance.”

“Minerva,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to met you, Lance. Now, please take of your clothes.”

“Huh?” Lance looked down at himself, “Why?”

“For me to bathe you,” she said. “I can’t do it if you’re dressed.” She turned her back on Lance, and started unfastening her dress.

Lance was quick to grab her shoulders and spin her back around. “You don’t have to do that!” He said, pointedly looking over her head. “I can wash myself. I swear I know how.” 

Minerva giggled, “I know you know _how_ , silly. But it’s my job to get you ready.” 

“Can you not just- let me do this part by myself?”

“I can, if you really want me to.”

“I do.”

“But acting shy isn’t going to last forever. We tend to bathe together, for convenience.”

“Convenience.” 

“Yes.” She waved a hand at the bath, which was approximately the same size as a small pool. “Heating this much water takes time, and if we all take baths individually, it would waste power.” 

“Waste power. Right.” Lance looked at her. “Can I do it by myself today, and then maybe tomorrow we can talk about the group thing?”

“Of course,” Minerva said. “Come find me when you’re done, and I’ll help you get dressed.”

Lance watched as she turned to leave, waiting for her to slide the door closed behind her before he pulled off the tattered remains of his uniform and slipped into the bath.

 

 

 

Ten minutes later, a knock sounded at the door, and Minerva’s head popped out through a narrow gap. “Lance? Are you done?”

“Yeah,” he answered, straightening up. He had just wrapped a towel around his waist.

As he had washed himself, Lance had realised that he had been absolutely filthy. The water was stained with mud and blood, and it was only when he scraped at the grime on his arms and legs that he realised just how covered in filth he had been. The battle at the castle ship had been brutal, but Lance hadn't truly understood  _how_ brutal until he'd seen the wounds plastering his arms and legs, and the blood and debris that he'd brushed out of his hair.

Lance flashed a smile in Minerva's direction, but it quickly fell when he saw the look on her face. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

Minerva shook her head, “Nothing! It’s just-” her eyes slipped down, grazing over Lance’s frame. “Nothing at all. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” Lance shrugged. “Where are we going now?”

“Wardrobe,” she said, leading Lance away from the baths and into the room next door. “I wasn’t sure that we had any clothes to fit you, but I found some in the back.”

She pushed open the door and led Lance inside. “There’s a few options for you to try on, and you can pick your favourite. The rest of us got a whole trunk full of things to wear after we arrived, so you’ll probably get the same. In the meantime, you’re just going to have to live with one of these.”

She waved a hand over three neatly arranged stacks of clothing, and Lance took a step closer.

The first stack was an airy pile of orange silk, a heavy red shawl and a pair of black shoes with toes that curled to a point; Lance wrinkled his nose. “Not that one.”

The second stack was smaller, containing only a pair of silver satin pants, a beaded belt, and an ornate headdress made with feathers from a bird that appeared to be a cross between a peacock and a pigeon. Lance shook his head, “No thanks.”

Which only left him with the final pile – the smallest of them all. Translucent black trousers and two narrow, golden armbands. It reminded Lance of something out of Aladdin – he had always loved that movie – and he found himself nodding. “This one,” he said. 

Minerva beamed.

 

 

 

When the guard Lotor had sent to retrieve Lance arrived, he was sitting with Minerva.

The tall guard from earlier grunted at Minerva like her very existence offended him. “Where is the paladin?”

“Um,” Lance waved a hand. “Yoo hoo.”

The guard blinked, “Oh. Well, then, stop wasting time.” He caught Lance by the arm and hauled him to his feet. “You don’t want to keep the Prince waiting, do you?”

“Who, Tiny?” Lance cast a sly look at Minerva, who had clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back a laugh. “Never.”

Lance took note of the corridors as he was led down them, mentally mapping the journey from the harem-room to Lotor’s quarters. The walk took a little under five minutes, and when Lance was stopped in front of a tall door, he looked to the guard for instructions.

“Knock,” the Galra said. “Enter when he invites you to do so.”

Swallowing hard, Lance nodded, and raised a fist to the door. He tapped it twice, and a metallic echo rebounded down the empty corridor. Lance held his breath, silently hoping that his presence there was a mistake and that he would soon be dismissed.

But the universe was rarely so kind. From the other side of the door, and familiar voice called, “Come in,” and with only a moment’s hesitation, Lance did just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't edited this, so if you noticed any errors, please let me know :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i'm mentioning a few times in this, and i thought i'd just let all of you know that i'll be sticking to the human time scales because, honestly, i don't understand the Altean ones and i can't find a breakdown of them online so, yeah

Lotor was sat on a chaise, the top three buttons of his shirt undone. His one leg was stretched out in front of him, the other tucked under his chin, and his white hair was pulled into a bun behind his head. He bore no resemblance to the man Lance remembered from before – he was narrower, less intimidating – and Lance’s tongue was tied.

He stood silently in the doorway, unable to begin thinking about what he could possibly say, and after a moment, Lotor looked up at him and frowned. “I sent for the paladin of Voltron,” he said, “not you. Go back to the harem and bring me what I asked for.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Dude, seriously?”

Lotor blinked. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Lance watched as a hint of colour graced his cheeks – it was a good look for him. Lotor cleared his throat, and set his book to the side. “Forgive me,” he said, beginning to stand. “I didn’t recognise you.”

“Don't worry about it,” Lance said, waving him off. “Happens all the time.”

“Are you certain?” Lotor crossed the room, long legs closing the distance between them in just a few easy strides. He stood uncomfortably close to Lance, and Lance felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise in warning. “I don’t imagine it’s easy to forget a face like yours.”

“You managed it.”

Lotor breathed a laugh, and without another word, hooked a finger under Lance’s chin and tilted it up. Light flashed in Lance’s eyes, blinding him; he couldn’t see Lotor’s expression when he said, “Blue eyes.”

Lance cleared his throat, “Yeah. My mother gave them to me.” 

Lotor hummed, his hand moving up from Lance’s chin and cupping his cheek, his thumb moving in slow circles behind Lance’s ear. “The first time I saw you, you were filthy. I’m glad to see that cleanliness becomes you.”

And it was then that Lance knew that he would not be doing this. He caught Lotor’s wrist, and put it back down by the Galra’s side. “ _Look_. I don’t care how you do this on your ship, or how you like it, or what tradition dictates or whatever else influences you people in the bedroom. I am not into whatever,” he waved a hand over Lotor, “ _this_ is, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t touch me like that." 

“Excuse me.”

“And if your plan was to throw me in with Minerva and the others so that they could teach me their haremy ways and give you a go on the blue lion, then you can put me somewhere else, because I am not-” 

Lance shut up when Lotor pressed a finger to his lips.

“Paladin,” Lotor said, reminding Lance that Lotor still didn’t know his name. “What are you talking about?”

Lance’s eyes crossed as he looked down at the blue finger against his mouth. Slowly, Lotor took his hand away, and Lance let his lips slip apart. “You put me in your harem,” Lance said. “I thought-”

Lotor raised an eyebrow, “Yes?”

“Well, I- Oh, shut up! You _know_ what I thought, you creep,” Lance shoved Lotor back a step. “And I am not down with it.” 

Lotor breathed a half laugh, and before Lance could really absorb the many ways in which a smile transformed his face, Lotor was turning away.

“I never use any of them,” he said, settling back down on his chaise and picking his book back up. “And I have no intention of – _how did you put it?_ – having a go on you.”

“Then,” Lance looked around the room, which did appear to be a bedroom, though it was almost twice the size of Lance’s house back on earth. “Why am I here?” 

“Can’t I just be concerned about how you’re settling in?”

“Not really.”

Lotor laughed again, and this time, Lance could really see it. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the severe line of his eyebrows softened and, just at the corner of his lips, a dimple dug its way into his cheek.

“You’re here on a formality,” Lotor said. “People were growing concerned about my-” he cleared his throat “-lack of sexual prowess. You are becoming very useful to me, blue paladin.”

“So,” Lance frowned, “I’m just gonna sit here?”

“Yes,” Lotor said. 

“For how long?”

“Until I tell you to leave.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Lotor sighed, pointedly turning a page in the almost-book he had balanced atop his knee. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to entertain yourself,” he said. “Sit down, sing a song, go to sleep – I don’t care.”

“Right.” Lance looked around the room a little awkwardly. It seemed that the only places to sit were on Lotor’s bed, or right next to him on the chaise. Lance settled on dropping to the floor where he stood, folding his legs up under him and settling in for whatever it was he was going to do. 

It only took Lance five minutes to come up with a perfect idea – it was mostly inspired by Pidge, who was honestly quite terrifying when it came to tactical thinking. Lance sat back, focused his eyes on Lotor, and watched him.

Lance watched as, every few seconds, Lotor would absently tuck and incessant strand of hair behind his ear, only to have it fall forwards again. He watched Lotor shift in his chaise, bending one leg and extending the other and crossing them over each other whenever it suited him to do so. Lance watched as, every time Lotor turned the page, his thumb would smooth over the edge of the paper, almost tenderly.

It was fascinating, really, how human the Galra seemed when they weren’t all built up with weapons and armour.

Lotor seemed to have a habit of licking his lower lip, of biting on his thumbnail. He furrowed his eyebrows when he got to a hard bit in his book, lifted them when he was surprised.

Pidge was right about this stuff – you really could learn a lot about people by- 

“-watching me?”

Lance blinked. He looked at Lotor who, to Lance’s horror, was looking right back, yellow eyes narrowed. “Huh?”

“You were watching me,” Lotor said. “And have been for at least an hour. Why?”

Lance shook his head. “I wasn’t watching you.”

Lotor put his book down at his side, and shifted his whole body to face Lance more directly. “You have questions,” he said. “It’s not surprising, really.”

“Oh-kay?” 

Lotor said, “I am not so cruel as to leave you in the dark, so to speak. If you have questions, I will answer them.”

Lance frowned. Now that Lotor mentioned it, he did have _one_ question – something that had been bugging him for a while.

“You’re different from the other Galra,” Lance said. “Your skin is lighter and your hair is, uh, white. And you don’t have those cute floofy ears that everyone loves.”

Lotor raised an eyebrow, “So?”

“Well, I have a friend, Keith, who’s half Galra, but he just sorta looks human, if you don’t count those times when he went a little,” Lance made a face, “you know? But I didn’t really want to ask cause like – is it racist to ask? Is it more racist to just assume? Like-”

Lotor held up a hand, and Lance found that, for a moment, he couldn’t speak. Not like he couldn’t bring himself to speak – like he actually could not convince his mouth to move.

Lotor said, “I’m like Kevin.” 

“Um, Keith?” 

“What did I say?”

Lance shook his head, “Never mind. You’re like Keith.”

“I’m only half Galra.”

“So, what’s your other half?”

Lotor shrugged, “My father never told me.”

“Oh.” Lance looked down. There was something in Lotor’s eyes that made it difficult for Lance to meet them. 

“Was there anything else?” Lotor asked.

Lance shook his head, “No, nothing else.”

Lotor said nothing, and when, five minutes later, Lance dared to look back up, Lotor was back to leaning against the chaise, fine face buried in his book.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 10,000 years but I'm finally back and even more in love with Lotor than I was before

Lance spent most of the night in Lotor’s chambers, sitting quietly on the ground and trying not to be too obvious about his staring. His eyes were tired, his legs had been dead for hours, and Lance was beginning to think that Lotor would keep him there all night.

He didn’t mind so much, though. It was nice to be somewhat alone, to have time to think. Lance wondered what the others were doing, whether Allura was mad at him, whether the others had survived the fight at all.

He supposed that if there was one good thing about this whole situation, it was that the others would be able to spend some time without him. Lance knew that he could be draining, that his energy levels often left people exhausted, barely keeping their eyes open. He supposed that it was a good thing that, for the first time in almost a year, the others would have some peace and quiet.

So Lance watched Lotor, and he thought about his friends, and Blue, and whether Coran would get to pilot her now that Lance was out of the picture. Lance liked Coran, and he knew that he would treat Blue right. She would yield to him, Lance thought – she would love Coran in the way that Lance often wondered if Blue loved him.

Lance had stopped staring at Lotor, allowed his eyes to slip shut and his head to bow forwards, when he heard the sound of someone getting to their feet. Lance’s vision was blurry when he opened his eyes, but he knew that Lotor was staring at him. His clothing was rumpled, shirt hanging unevenly over his shoulders, and delicate wisps of white hair hung over his face.

He was beautiful, Lance had to admit.

Lotor crossed the room and opened the door, and Lance vaguely heard him ordering one of the guards stationed just outside to escort Lance back to the harem. Lance didn’t resist the guard when he yanked him to his feet, and he didn’t look back at Lotor as he was escorted out of the room.

 

 

 

Minerva was waiting for him when he got back, and Lance had never been more intimidated in his life. She glared at the guards as they shoved Lance into the room, her eyes sharp and unrelenting as they let go of Lance’s arms and left white, hand-shaped marks in his skin.

Minerva waited for the guards to close the door behind them before she dragged Lance into a hug.

“Um?”

The other Haries (the people from the harem) were sleeping, curled around each other on large pillows or sprawled out alone on the few sofas and chaises scattered around the room. No one was awake to see them, but Lance still felt like they were being watched.

Minerva pressed her cheek to Lance’s head, her arms circling his shoulders with both tenderness and strength.

“Are you okay?”

Lance wasn’t sure what to say. He vaguely noticed that his arms were hanging limp at his sides, and he decided to fix that problem first, by returning the hug. His arms circled Minerva’s waist, his hands barely reaching all the way around. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be hugged, or to hug someone back. Hunk was incredibly affectionate, but even he didn’t seem to understand the concept of a gentle, non-bone-crushing hold.

Minerva rested her chin on Lance’s head, and Lance allowed himself to relax into her warmth.

He hadn’t had a hug like _this_ since he was home, with his mother.

“I’m fine,” Lance said, voice slightly muffled by Minerva’s chest. He thought he normally would have spat out a joke, said something suggestive or sarcastic to relieve the tension of the mood, but he found that he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. “I’m okay.”

Minerva laid her hands on Lance’s shoulders and pushed him back a step. “What did he want with you?”

“Not a lot, I don’t think,” Lance said. “He just made me sit there while he read a book, and he let me ask some questions when he said I looked curious.”

“Questions?” Minerva wrinkled her nose. “What did you ask?”

“I wanted to know why he looked different to the other Galra,” Lance said.

“And he told you?”

“I-” Lance paused. He suddenly found that he didn’t want to tell Minerva. It was something about the way that Lotor had looked when he’d told Lance about his other half – the half of him that he would never know, now that Zarkon was gone. Lance thought that it was something private, something that he shouldn’t speak aloud again, except for when he was with Lotor. Lance said, “Of course he didn’t. I’m the enemy – he can’t go giving up secrets to me. I might decide to use them against him.”

Minerva laughed, “You're right. I suppose it was stupid to think he might open up to _you_ , of all people.”

Lance pretended that that didn't sting. 

She said, “You’re probably lucky he didn’t have you executed for possessing the audacity to ask.” 

Lance winced. “Do you really think he would have killed me?” 

“Oh, definitely,” Minerva said. “I’ve known Prince Lotor for longer than any one of us, and I’ve never known him to be able to control his temper. If _I’d_ asked him that, well- I dread to think what might have happened to me.”

“So why didn’t he do anything to me?” Lance wondered if perhaps Lotor was using him for something, if maybe he was being used as some kind of leverage.

“I couldn’t say,” Minerva said. “Perhaps he likes you.” 

“ _Likes_ me?” Lance gaped. “He _kidnapped_ me!”

“For good reason, I suppose,” Minerva said. Lance couldn’t see her mouth through her veil, but he had a sneaking suspicion she was smirking at him. “Maybe it’s your eyes.”

“My… _eyes_?” Lance crossed his eyes, as if that would ever achieve anything. “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

“Nothing’s wrong with them,” Minerva said. “They’re quite lovely, in fact. Blue.”

Suddenly, Lotor’s voice was in Lance’s head. _Blue eyes._

“My mother gave them to me,” Lance said, his voice barely a whisper. He felt his stomach twist as he thought about her. Of all the things he missed about earth, his mother was the hardest to let go. Everything reminded him of her – every meal he ate, every soft word or sweet smile from one of the team, every time he looked in the mirror and saw her eyes. 

“Is blue a common colour where you’re from?” Minerva asked. Her voice was gentler than it had been before, and Lance wondered if maybe she sensed something about how Lance was feeling.

“Not really,” Lance said. “I think brown is the most common. Then blue, then green. Some people have red eyes, or two different colours, but that’s pretty rare, I think.”

“It sounds lovely,” Minerva said. “I’ve never heard of a species capable of multiple eye-colours before. What else in your people changes?”

“Lots of things,” Lance said. “Hair colour, skin tone.”

“Hair?” Minerva pulled on a lock of her own hair, purple and loose with curls. “Ours is only ever this colour. What colours of hair can you have?”

“Brown, again,” Lance said, running a hand through his own hair and mussing it slightly. “Yellow, red, black.”

“So there are people with brown hair, brown eyes _and_ brown skin?” Mini asked. She was smiling, awe-stuck, and for a moment she reminded Lance of Allura. “That sounds lovely.”

“It is,” Lance said. “My friend Hunk, he looks like that, and his eyes are _amazing_. I mean, my mama always said that the eyes were the windows to the soul, and with Hunk, I can believe it, because they’re just so soft, and kind, and-”

“You miss him,” Mini said – it wasn’t a question. “Now that you’re here? You miss your friends?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, “I do.” It was surprising how much, actually. It had only been a day. Lance supposed that was just what happened when you spend so much time together – and he’d spent more time with Hunk that anyone.

But it wasn’t just Hunk. Lance missed Pidge’s sarcastic quips when Lance said something stupid, Keith’s hot-blooded temper when Lance said something even stupider, Shiro’s level baritone when he pulled Keith and Lance apart and told Lance not to say something so stupid… again.

 _Huh_. Lance supposed he said a lot of stupid things. He began to wonder, darkly, whether his team missed him at all. He had been harbouring a hope that they would grow to hate the quiet of life-without-Lance, and come to save him. But maybe…

Maybe they wouldn’t.

Minerva was looking at Lance with something akin to pity, and Lance wondered again if she was capable of reading his mind, deciphering his emotions. Lance bit his lip when she looked into his eyes, and she caught hold of his hand.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She started pulling Lance towards the baths, and he had to scurry to keep up with her Galran strides.

“We’re going to fix your hair,” Minerva said, “and get you some nice things for your skin. You look lovely, but I still think we can do better.”

Lance froze, and Minerva stopped with him. His head was reeling, rushing with images of his older sister playing with his hair, putting masks and makeup on his face, toying with his clothes and dressing him up like a doll. 

His brothers had made fun of him for it, but he’d never let it phase him. His sister had enjoyed herself, Lance had enjoyed himself, and when his mother had seen him with her pearls resting on his head like a tiara, she had smiled at him with nothing but pride.

Minerva looked worriedly at Lance. “Is that okay?” She asked. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“It’s not that,” Lance said, sounding a little choked up. He blinked the absent sting from his eyes. “A makeover sounds nice. Perfect, even.” 

Minerva smiled, and Lance followed her into the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did everyone see the Season 3 teaser??? Did you see the EYELINER on LOTOR JFC and hiS VOICE (seriously that man could murder me and as long as he talked his way through it I would die a happy death)
> 
> updates will still be a little sporadic, if only because school hates me, and i can't quit because EDUCATION IS IMPORTANT, KIDS


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Lance was finished playing with Minerva’s hair, three more Haries had joined them, each sharing their own alien (but strangely human) tips on pencilling eyebrows and defining cheekbones and enhancing the eyes.

Apparently, in Galra Culture, the eyes were the most beautiful aspect of a person. Minerva explained it as being something to do with the visual representation of the true intentions, which Lance thought sounded a lot like the human saying ‘the eyes are the windows to the soul.’

The Haries fawned over Lance’s braids, which he had perfected after years of fixing his little sister’s hair for school, and he promised to show them all how to do them when Mini let him go.

Lance had started feeling more like himself as soon as the the girls had placed cucumber-ish slices over his eyes, and he thought that there could be nothing better than the feeling of someone else’s fingers carding through his hair and the gentle sounds of bathwater swaying as the people sat in it moved around.

It reminded Lance of home, before the Garrison, when he’d had friends and hobbies and time ( _so much time_ ) to do whatever the hell he wanted with his life. Minerva spoke to him as she washed his hair, and Lance thought he could fall asleep like that: his head in Minerva’s lap as she told him stories about the more appealing aspects of life as a Harie.

When she grew silent, still in a way that told Lance there was something on her mind, Lance let her ask what he knew she’d been wondering.

He told her about his family, about the Garrison, about the Team. He marvelled about Pidge, her allergy to peanuts and her love of old-school video games; he told her about Hunk, who had held Lance on that first, homesick night at the Garrison, and hadn’t let go since. He told Minerva about his newer friends – about Shiro’s kindness, Keith’s loyalty.

He didn’t dare tell her anything that could be used against them – Lance may not have been part of Voltron any more, but he wasn’t about to sabotage them by telling their assets to anyone that would listen – but it helped to talk to _someone_.

Lance knew that the team had been busy, and that there hadn’t been a lot of time for chit-chat and reminiscing in amongst all of the fighting and the planning, but Lance had barely spoken about his family since they’d left Earth, and he realised as he spoke to Minerva that the ache in his chest – the hollow, empty feeling that was more a lack of feeling than any real emotion – was Lance’s family, and the hole they’d left in his heart.

He didn’t tell Minerva any of that. He told Minerva about other things – the farm, his sister’s ballet recitals, his father’s oil-stained hands, his mother’s smile.

“They sound wonderful,” Minerva said. They had spoken for so long that Lance’s hair was clean, and dry, and Minerva was only playing with it for the hell of it. “You miss them terribly, don’t you?”

“I do,” Lance said. “I don’t even know what they think happened to me.”

There was a sound like Minerva frowning, confused. “What do you mean?”

“They didn’t know that I’d gone,” Lance said. “Everything with Voltron happened so suddenly, there was no way for me to contact them before we left earth. For all I know, they haven’t even noticed I’m gone.”

“I’m sure they have noticed,” Minerva said. “I’m sure that they miss you.”

Lance huffed a laugh, but it was anything but funny. “In some ways, I kinda hope they haven’t noticed I’m gone,” he said. “If they have, they probably think I’ve run away, or that I’m dead. I think I’d rather them not even know I was gone than have them think I’m never coming back.”

“You will see them again,” Minerva said. Her nails scraped against Lance’s scalp, not hard enough to hurt. “My species does not possess psychic abilities,” she said, “but I believe that if you miss them this much, the universe will find a way to reunite you again.”

Leaning his head back with a sigh, Lance thought that through. It was a nice thought – a thought Lance would like to be able to cling to – but he was starting to doubt. If there was one thing that Voltron stood for, it was hope, and now Voltron was gone, and so was that hope.

Lance was beginning to think that hope, in all its innocent and naïve glory, was completely and irrevocably futile.

Lance wondered, not for the first time, if Minerva could read his emotions, as her fingers started tracing patterns behind Lance’s ears. He sighed, tilting his head to the side for a better angle, and was just thinking that he could have shut his eyes and fallen asleep right there and them when he heard startled gasps from the other side of the door.

From the main section of the Harem Suite, Lance could hear cries of ‘You could have knocked!’ and ‘Stop looking, show some respect, you creep!’ Lance knocked the cucumbers away from his eyes and sat up, looking to the door just as it was torn open wide.

A Galra soldier stood on the other side.

Lance saw Minerva shift, her hands tightening to fists, and Lance caught hold of one, working her fingers loose. “Calm down,” he hissed, pinning her hand to the ground to keep her off her feet. Lance didn’t know a lot about the Galra soldiers outside of a fight; he didn’t know how they would treat people who weren’t intruders or prisoners. But Lance did know one thing, and that was that he didn’t want to find out _now_ , just because Minerva thought it was a good idea to piss one off. 

Lance should have known she wouldn’t listen to him, but she _did_ let him keep holding her hand, which Lance counted as a small victory, because he already knew that Minerva was far stronger than he could ever hope to be. Minerva’s voice, however, dropped to a low growl when she said, “Get out.”

“I don’t have to follow orders from the likes of you.”

“They’re not my orders. You _know_ you’re not allowed in here.”

 “I’m under special orders,” the guard said, his lip curling at the corner. “The Prince has requested the presence of the Paladin of Voltron, immediately.”

Lance arched an eyebrow, but Minerva swept in before he could say anything.

She said, “Does he look like he’s ready to be seen by the prince? He’s in his _pyjamas_.”

The guard barely spared Lance a second glance. “The Prince wants him now – I am to bring him to Prince Lotor’s chambers _as soon as possible_.”

“Were those the prince’s words?” Minerva asked. “ _As soon as possible?_ Because if they were, you can tell Prince Lotor that it won’t be possible for another ten minutes, _at least_.”

The guard seemed to consider this for a moment. He glanced at Lance, who lifted his eyebrows in the menacing fashion he’d learned from Shiro. The guard said, “I will wait here until the Paladin is ready.”

“You most certainly will not,” Minerva gasped, voice the epitome of scandalised disgust. “You can wait outside – let him get dressed in peace.”

“I will be telling Prince Lotor about this.”

“You can tell him whatever you like,” Minerva said. “After you give us some privacy.” She waved her hand, shooing him away, and Lance was entirely unsurprised when the guard sneered, turned on his heel, and walked away.

He didn’t close the door behind him, but it was better than nothing.

“Come on,” Minerva said, removing herself from under Lance’s head and pulling Lance up to stand beside her. “Let’s get your pack washed off, and you can go.”

“Will you get in trouble for talking to him like that?” Lance asked, as she helped him wash down his face. “Lotor wouldn’t hurt you for it, would he?”

Minerva shook her head. “That guard isn’t going to tell Lotor anything, don’t worry. The penalty for letting me push him around would be worse than anything they’d inflict on me.”

“How do you know that?”

Minerva smiled, wry. “Trial and error.” 

Lance didn’t want to think about that. He had quickly started thinking of Minerva as an extension of his family, some warped conglomeration of his siblings, and he didn’t like the way the thought of someone hurting her made his stomach twist.

He let Minerva dab at his wet face with a towel, and he didn’t protest when she offered to help him get dressed. The clothing she had picked out for him was actually a lot harder to get on and off than it looked, and Lance didn’t want to risk offending Minerva by refusing her help again.

His hair had curled in the steam from the bathroom, and there was no time to straighten it before visiting Lotor, but when Lance caught sight of himself in a mirror as he walked out of the bathroom, he had to admit that he looked pretty good. The soap had given the healthy glow back to his skin, and the cucumber-ish slices had done wonders for the puffiness around his eyes.

Lance could also admit that the outfit Minerva had roped him into, while not his usual style, looked quite perfect on him. The dark blue vest that hung delicately from his shoulders and shimmered in the yellow light of the bathroom highlighted Lance’s second-best asset – his eyes – and the high-rise black pants that almost reminded Lance of skinny jeans did wonders for Lance’s first-best asset – his ass.

The guard gave Lance an appreciative once-over before placing one hand around his wrist and one hand (precariously low) on his back, and steering him out of the harem.

Lance wasn’t blindfolded this time around, and he took the opportunity to try to learn the layout of the halls. He counted how many steps he took before he had to turn, whether they went left or right or straight ahead, whether they passed any memorable landmarks. He realised that he would only really know how to get to Lotor’s chambers and back, but it was a start.

The guard left Lance when he was outside Lotor’s door, grunting a quick instruction to knock and wait to be invited in before disappearing completely. Lance stood there, dumbstruck, for a moment, and was just beginning to wonder why he hadn’t made a run for it yet when Lotor’s bedroom door was torn open and a blue hand dragged him inside.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Lance startled at the tone of Lotor’s voice – almost a _growl_. His face was pinched with rage, his eyes a darker yellow than Lance remembered them.

“Um?”

“You’re up to something,” Lotor said. “Tell me what, or you will be punished.”

“Punished?” Lance gawked at the Prince. “I haven’t done anything!”

“Precisely,” Lotor said, which – what? “Behaving well, befriending the locals, _spying on us_.”

Lotor’s eyes were almost _glowing_ , he was so mad. Lance didn’t know what he’d done, but- no, still nothing. Lance had no idea what he’d done.

He said, “Do you want to rewind a couple of minutes, please?” He barely registered the swell of anger in Lotor’s eyes. “Because I have no idea what’s going on right now.”

“It’s been twenty four hours since I brought you here,” Lotor said, “and there’s been nothing. No attacks from your friends, no attempts to escape, no-” 

“You’re mad at me for not trying to escape?” Lance’s eyebrow was lifted so high it was starting to hurt. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Excuse-!”

“I mean, _you_ brought me here. You knocked me out and you gagged me and you brought me aboard your ship, and now you want me to try to escape? I mean, if you want me gone that badly, why don’t you just _let me go?”_

“If you want to be gone so badly, why don’t you just try to escape?”

“Because that would likely result in my _imminent_ and _painful_ death?”

“Or,” Lotor’s face was growing dark with anger, “because you’re feeding information back to your teammates, because you’re more useful to them here than you ever were back there.” 

“I-” Lance didn’t know how Lotor had done it, but he’d somehow managed to cut Lance to the core in the space of a single sentence. Lance couldn’t communicate with his friends, his _family_ , and they hadn’t come to rescue him because he was just as useful to them in the Harem as he was back in Altea – not at all. 

“I’m not feeding information to anyone,” Lance said. He didn’t have the energy to be angry anymore – he just felt defeated. “I was trying to make the best of a shitty situation, if you must know. My friends aren’t coming to get me, my family doesn’t know where I am, and there’s no way in hell that I could escape on my own. So, if this is what reality looks like for me now, excuse me if I try not to hate it.”

Lotor frowned. He looked at Lance with an expression that Lance could read all too easily – empathy, understanding – but that didn’t make any sense.

The silence between them was tense, unmoving and awkward until Lotor cut through the tension with a hand through his hair. With a sigh, he said, “You may go.”

Lance wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so when Lotor pressed the panel to open the door, Lance slipped readily through it and made his own way back to the Harem.

_If this is what reality looks like for me now, excuse me if I try not to hate it._

 Lance almost laughed at the thought. He missed his friends, he missed his family, and he didn’t think there was a hope in hell that he would ever view this ship with anything but disdain for as long as he was on board.

 

 

Lotor sighed.

He’d been meaning to use the blue paladin to extract information about Voltron, but he hadn’t expected it to be so _difficult_. He had expected this Lance to spill every bit of knowledge about his team as soon as he had the chance – he’d expected him to try to escape, or for the others to stage a rescue – he’d been hoping for _something_ he could use against them.

What Lotor hadn’t expected was for Lance to have blue eyes.

It was Lotor’s first memory – his mother, looking down at him, her watering eyes doing nothing to hide their crystallised blue. Lotor saw his mother in Lance’s eyes, and today, he had seen them frightened, enraged, and destroyed.

Lotor had never regretted seeing something so much in his life.

His mother had been taken from him not long after his birth. She was a traitor to Zarkon, to Voltron, to the Universe. She had married into the family, held Lotor’s father at night as he spilled every military secret he knew, and when it became evident that she had relayed that information to the Altean King, Zarkon had lost everything.

His lion.

His home.

His wife.

The only thing Zarkon had been able to keep was Lotor, and it was obvious from the moment he set eyes on him that Zarkon’s son would not be wasted. He was not raised as a child, or a Prince, or a diplomat – Lotor was raised to be the only thing Zarkon wanted him to be: an infallible weapon of war.

Lotor had surpassed his father’s expectations quickly, and continued to grow on his own, until he had taken over the Galra fleet with Haggar at his side.

It had been Zarkon’s plan to capture the black lion and reclaim it as his own, but Lotor had no interest in piloting a lion. Lotor’s plan had been to capture the black paladin, render Voltron useless and perhaps, when his father awoke, grant him the honour of tearing him apart.

But Lotor hadn’t captured the black paladin – he’d found the blue.

The plan remained mostly the same. Take Voltron’s secrets from the Blue Paladin, launch an attack on Allura and her pet cats, eradicate Voltron, please his father, and gain eternal glory for the Galra. 

 

Of course, some things would have to change. The unprecedented circumstances of the Paladin's eyes presented a flaw to Lotor's plan - he could not bear to see those eyes in pain, and so torturing secrets out of the Paladin would be impossible.

Crossing the room to his desk, Lotor pressed a pen to a piece of paper and began to write.

If the circumstances changed, Lotor's plan would have to change - chance wouldn't be an issue. Lotor was built for change - to embrace it and to create it - and he would do whatever it took to keep his plan on track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, it's been a million years since i last updated, and with my exams coming up, it's probably going to be another month before I can update again, but don't worry!!!! we're getting to the juicy bit of the story now, and as soon as i have more time to work, this story is going to be one of my top priorities


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, following the events of season three, this fic is now no longer canon-compliant. I've put it in the tags that the plot diverges after season 2, so please keep that in mind when reading the rest of this fic.

“So there’s really no way for you to get back to your friends?” Minerva asked.

Lance had told her about his conversation with Lotor – about how mad he’d become at Lance for not trying to escape, for not divulging Voltron’s secrets, and for whatever the hell other reasons for hating Lance the prince had twisted up in his pants.

Lance considered the bond that Red and Keith shared – he remembered the Red lion flying to Keith without a pilot, just to rescue him. Lance wondered if he and Blue had that kind of bond – if Blue was flying to him right this minute, staging a rescue all by herself.

Lance didn’t think he was that important to Blue.

He shook his head at Minerva, saying, “No. As far as I’m aware, I’m stuck here. Forever”

Minerva nodded, her purple face paling drastically as she looked away from Lance’s eyes. Lance couldn’t bear the piteous way she seemed to view, him, and he forced himself to smile.

“But, hey!” He said, catching Minerva’s arm and drawing her attention back to him. “There are worse places to be trapped, right?”

“You say that now,” Minerva told him. “Wait a few more days, and tell me if your opinion is the same.”

“A few more days?” Lance frowned, confused. “What’s happening in a few more days?”

“We’re approaching a Galra Holiday,” Minerva explained. “It’s a mandatory celebration in honour of some important person that died a few hundred years ago and probably wasn’t all that interesting anyway. It’s one of the only times in a year that the Prince lends us out to the guards.”

Lance remembered Minerva telling him about the guards, and what they would sometimes ask the Haries to do for them. He recalled them telling him that they’d been asked to take beatings, degradations, and everything else the guards liked to inflict.

He felt his stomach twist.

“Would you be allowed to refuse?” Lance asked. “If a guard asked for you?”

Minerva shook her head, “No. We exist as pleasure slaves, and for the most part, we don’t even do that. There are only six nights in a year that we are actually required to do as we’re employed.” 

“And you don’t have any say in the matter?" 

“No.” Lance felt the blood drain out of his face. “But you don’t have to worry,” Minerva said, quickly, as if in a rush to abate his suddenly nauseated appearance. “They barely ever select the newbies.” 

“Oh,” Lance said. “That’s good then, I suppose.”

“I wouldn’t let them do anything to hurt you, anyway,” Minerva said, nudging Lance’s arm. “So there’s no need to worry about that, either.”

“Thanks, Mini,” Lance said, leaning into her side. “Ditto.”

Minerva laughed, and Lance found that for a moment, he could smile for real.

 

 

The days leading up to the celebration passed in a blur, so quickly that before Lance knew it, it was the night of the party, and everyone in the Harem was panicking.

“Where’s my scarf?”

“Who _cares_ about your _scarf_? I can’t find my _right_ _shoe_!”

“I found a _left_ shoe, but I don’t know about any scarf.”

“I've got your right shoe,” Lance said, running to the table to hand Scara her shoe. “And here’s a scarf. It’s not the one you were looking for, but it goes way better with that outfit anyway.”

“Thanks Lance,” Lucia said, taking the scarf from Lance’s hand and tying it around her waist. “Are you not getting ready?” 

“Nah,” Lance said, shaking his head. “I doubt any of the guards would pick me, so what’s the point?”

 “Don’t you want to go to the party?” Lucia asked, her lower lip sticking out in a pout.

“It’s not the party I’m afraid of,” Lance said, poking Lucia’s chin to get her to suck her lip back to where it should be. “It’s what happens _after_.”

“Ohhh!” Lucia said, eyes suddenly wide. “Are you inexperienced?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say-”

“Who’s inexperienced?” Layla asked.

“Lance.”

“ _Lance_ is _inexperienced_?” Layla clasped two of her four hands under her chin. “That is so sweet! I’ve never met an inexperienced man before.”

“How would _you_ know?” Minerva asked, suddenly appearing at Lance’s side. “It’s impolite to ask, as you know.”

Layla’s green face paled, and she whispered an apology to Lance before running off, quick to avoid Minerva’s wrath.

“What was that about?” Lance asked, turning towards Minerva when the other girls were gone.”

“Experience is a big thing in some of their cultures,” Minerva said. She took a step away from Lance and he took a moment to admire her outfit. “They believe that people who are inexperienced are more in tune with the universe.” 

“Ah,” Lance hummed, nodding slowly. “Anyway, look at you!” 

“Why thank you,” Minerva smiled. She spun around for Lance to see her full outfit. “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.” 

“Any day you wear that dress is a special occasion,” Lance said, grinning as Minerva swatted him with her skirt. “And- what is he doing here?”

Minerva spun in the direction Lance was looking, eyes immediately falling on the guard that had just ducked through the door. His eyes were on Minerva- no. His eyes were on Lance, and he was walking over. 

“This is for you,” the guard said, thrusting a box in Lance’s direction. “Put it on and report to Prince Lotor’s chambers immediately.”

Lance stared at the guard, blinking dumbly. “What?”

“Put it on,” the guard said, his voice dropping to a threatening growl, “and report to Prince Lotor. Immediately.”

Lance was dumbstruck, but thankfully, Minerva was not.

“Right,” she said, stepping between Lance and the guard and flashing him a brilliant smile. “He’ll be there in just a moment. Would you mind waiting for him outside?”

“I-” 

“Thank you,” Minerva said, already escorting the guard in the direction of the door. He barely had a second to protest before she was shutting the door in his face, effectively locking him out of the Harem. 

It was only then that Lance had the solidarity of mind to ask, “What the _Quiznack_ does that mean?”

 

 

Lance, as he was escorted at gunpoint to the chambers of Prince Lotor, was not amused. Lance, as Minerva had explained to him, was to be an accessory this evening. It was customary for the leader of the Galra Empire to be escorted to the festivities by the most valuable, the most rare, and the most _beautiful_ member of his Harem.

And that, apparently, was Lance.

The guard stopped in front of Prince Lotor’s chambers and opened the door for Lance, who had only a second to wonder if he was even going to bother walking in when a sharp jab to his spine sent him tumbling into the room.

And crashing into Lotor.

Strong hands gripped his arms, keeping him on his feet. His face had crashed into Lotor’s chest, his hands had landed on Lotor’s waist, and his blood – all seven pints of it – had risen to his head. 

“Sorry!” Lance shrieked, throwing himself away from the Prince and into the now closed door. “I, uh- shit.”

Lotor lifted an eyebrow, but gave no more reaction than that. Lance had expected him to be furious about storming out on him the last time they’d been together, but there was nothing.

He simply said, “You’re early.”

“I was told to come here immediately,” Lance said. He looked Lotor up and down, noticing that he was not yet fully dressed. “Too fast for ya?”

“Not at all,” Lotor said. He turned away from Lance and started across the room. “It makes no difference to me how quickly you can get here when properly prompted.”

“Oh, so your guy _was_ supposed to point a gun at me?” Lance asked, following Lotor across the room with his arms crossed over his chest. “That was a nice touch. Really makes me feel at home.” 

“This isn’t your home,” Lotor said. “And it isn’t my job to make you feel comfortable here.”

“Well, good,” Lance said, “because if it was, you’d be fired. Like, no reference form the manager, pack up your things in this little tiny box _fired_.”

Lotor glanced at Lance with something akin to amusement, but said nothing. He was leaning over a vanity table, poking at his face with a rounded stick. The stick didn’t seem to be doing anything, but Lotor’s face was screwed up in concentration, and Lance found himself intrigued. 

He said, “What are you doing?”

Lotor blinked. He said, “I’m covering my Altean markings.”

“Your-” Lance frowned. “Why would you want to cover those?” Lance had always thought that the Altean markings were excessively pretty.

“Because half breeds are frowned upon,” Lotor said. He kept prodding at his face, and Lance could see that slowly, the markings under his eyes were fading. “And it is not beneficial for a leader to be frowned upon.” 

“Is that why you’re taking me tonight?” Lance asked.

“Yes.” Lotor glanced at Lance through the reflection of the mirror. “Does that offend you?”

“That you’re using me to show off to your friends?” Lance asked. “Treating me like a prize pig at a parade?”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“I’m not offended,” Lance said. “Surprised, though. Aren’t you afraid that I’ll try to escape, or show you up? I could be _really_ problematic for you if I wanted to.”

“You could,” Lotor said. “But you won’t. Because if you prove too difficult to keep, you won’t be kept.” He straightened up and turned towards Lance, his eyes glowing with the ferocity of his father. “Understand?" 

Lance swallowed, hard. “Implicitly,” he said.

“Well, good. Now,” Lotor offered his arm to Lance, “shall we go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was just a short little chapter to get me back into the swing of things. let me know what you think, and if you spot any spelling mistakes, please let me know in the comments xx
> 
> anyway, how about that season 3 - if you feel like talking about it, swing by my tumblr (thetrianglefandom.tumblr.com) and talk to me about it because !!!!!!!!! i have so many thoughts


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't really have time to edit this so please let me know if you notice any mistakes xx

The party was, to Lance’s surprise, astonishingly similar to the extravagant gatherings he had experienced back on earth. Aliens of multiple shapes and sizes milled around an elegant ballroom, dressed in what Lance assumed was finery as they spoke quietly over the sounds of the music coming from the band in the far corner of the room.

Lotor had led Lance into the party with a hand on the small of his back, and he had yet to remove it. He guided Lance around the room, keeping him at his side as he greeted the people that Lance supposed he was there to impress.

The people that Lotor spoke with all seemed appreciative of Lance, their eyes trailing over him almost greedily when Lotor introduced him. It was strange to hear Lotor speak his name, his voice softer than it was in battles, his voice invading the lions’ communicators to taunt them about their impending doom.

He was dramatic, that was for sure.

Lance held himself at Lotor’s side with a stiff spine, his face pleasant and controlled as he stood among Lotor’s friends and pretended that he wasn’t listening in. So far, he had heard nothing of interest, but he wasn’t about to let himself miss anything. If, one day, he managed to communicate with the team, at least if he listened in now he could return with something of use. 

But Lotor didn’t seem inclined to talk about anything of consequence at all. Lance found himself frowning as he followed Lotor around and heard only small talk and gossip, things that until today he hadn’t realised the prince could even _do_. He was charming and graceful and, at times, beautiful, but somehow Lance didn’t think that, if he ever returned to the team, they would want to know how pretty Lotor’s jawline was.

He found himself growing nervous as the minutes stretched on, worrying about his own behaviour as he found it increasingly difficult to ignore Lotor’s hand on his back, which was warmer and more pleasant than Lance thought was really appropriate. His fingers were stretched along Lance’s bare skin, thanks to the outfit he’d been given, and occasionally he would stretch them out or tap the best of the music against Lance’s skin.

Needless to say, it was very distracting, and probably why Lance didn’t realise he’d been led in the direction of Lotor’s four generals until he was standing in front of them, their grinning faces far too smug to be anything but trouble.

Lotor said, “Ladies.”

“Lotor,” said the big one – _Zethrid_ , the memory of Pidge’s voice supplied. “This your new toy?”

“Lance,” Lotor said, his hand tightening on Lance’s back.

“Where’s he from?” The sweet one – Ezor – asked. “He’s kinda cute.”

“A small planet out of the empire’s reach,” Lotor said. “From the Sol System. Earth, I think”

Lance frowned – he didn’t remember telling Lotor that. He felt the sudden, dense coldness of dread forming in his stomach as he realised that the Galra knew about earth – that they could invade and enslave Lance’s planet at any moment.

Acxa said, “He looks like the paladin I met in the Weblum. The red one.”

“Keith,” Lance said, without thinking. When he felt five pairs of eyes suddenly on him, Lance felt his cheeks heat up, and he scrambled to say, “His name is Keith. He’s from earth, too.” 

“I see.” Lotor looked down at Lance, his eyebrows furrowed, as if he were only then realising something that should have occurred to him minutes earlier. He said, “Why don’t you go talk to some of the others for a minute. I’d like to speak to my generals in private.”

His hand slipped away from Lance’s back and a shiver ran over his skin, the air suddenly too cold after the warmth of Lotor’s touch. He knew that this was what he’d been waiting for – whatever Lotor was going to say to his generals was _exactly_ the kind of information Lance could feed back to the team – and he knew that that was exactly why Lotor was trying to get rid of him. Lance wanted to stay, to gather information, but how could he? If Lotor wanted him gone, he had to go.

Lance said, “Okay. I’ll catch up to you later.” 

“Please do,” Lotor said, and just like that, he was turning his back on Lance and devoting all of his attention to the generals.

Lance felt suddenly, startlingly alone. He didn’t know anyone here, and he certainly didn’t know any of their languages. He didn’t know what customs he would have to uphold or what would be considered impolite or- 

“Lance!”

Lance spun around and saw Minerva walking towards him, a smile on her face as she beckoned him closer. Lance met her halfway, hands reaching out for her to take.

“You look amazing,” she said, eyeing Lance’s outfit with an appreciative grin. “Everyone’s been looking at you.”

Lance felt himself blush. “That’s only because I was standing next to Lotor,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“No,” Minerva said, “it’s because you look _gorgeous_ in those colours. If you weren’t already a part of Voltron, I’d suggest that you join the Galra Empire _just_ so that you could wear that uniform every day.” 

“Well, _thank_ _you_ Minerva,” Lance said, “but I’m pretty sure the rebel alliance wears these colours too, so I’d have just as much luck joining up with them.”

Minerva grinned, but she slapped Lance’s arm in warning, too. “You mustn’t say that,” she said. “Who knows who might overhear you?”

“Who cares who might overhear me?” Lance asked. “What could they do, imprison me?” He snorted, glancing away from Minerva to appraise the people surrounding him. “It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think.”

“The other leaders here aren’t as merciful as Lotor,” Minerva said, grabbing Lance’s arm and drawing him to the side, further away from anyone who might be listening in. “And they won’t take kindly to you making jokes about that sort of thing.”

“I can hold my own,” Lance said, but he decided to change the subject, just in case. He said, “So what about you? Where’s your guard?”

“With his friends,” Minerva said, gesturing towards a group of Galra soldiers standing in the opposite corner. They didn’t look too bad, Lance thought, looking them up and down. They weren’t the biggest Galra Lance had ever seen, and they certainly didn’t appear to be the meanest.

He said, “Is he nice?” 

“I don’t know,” Minerva said. “I’ve never been with him before. I think he may be gentler than some of the others I’ve had, but I won’t truly know until tonight.”

She sighed, but she didn’t seem too upset about the prospect of taking him to bed, so Lance decided to leave it. He’d already had enough discussions about it with her to know that she didn’t hate the men she had to be with, and that she would never let anyone do anything to her that she wasn’t okay with. 

She said, “What about you?”

“What about me?” Lance asked.

“Prince Lotor,” she said, nodding her head in Lotor’s direction. “Is he treating you okay?”

“He’s ignoring me, actually,” Lance said. “I think he’s spoken to me twice since we got here, and one of those times was to tell me to go away.”

Minerva nodded, understanding. “That’s how he is,” she said. “I think we make him uncomfortable, truth be told. He doesn’t know what to do with us.”

Lance laughed, but Minerva persisted.

“I’m serious!” She said. “Look at him! He’s so much more at ease when we aren’t around. Look!”

Lance snorted, but followed Minerva’s gaze to look in Lotor’s direction. He was still with his generals, stood among them as if they were in some kind of formation, but Minerva was right about him looking different. Lotor’s stance was less tense, his hip cocked to the side as he listened to Narti speak. Acxa said something in response and Lance watched as Lotor laughed, bracing a hand against Zethrid’s shoulder as his face scrunched up with his smile.

Lance was surprised to see just how different Lotor could be when he was at ease. He was completely changed, his posture looser, his features softer. He looked, for all the world, like a _completely_ _normal_ _person_. If anyone tried to tell Lance that this Lotor – this man, who looked so much younger and kinder when he wasn’t schooling his features to be so diplomatically stoic – was the leader of an evil empire, Lance would have laughed in their face. 

He said, “Hot dang.”

“Right!” 

Lance returned his attention to Minerva, a furrow forming at the centre of his brow. “Why is he so different when he’s not with us?”

“I don’t know,” Minerva said. “Some of the older girls say that he’s always been like this, ever since he was a child.”

“And what do you think it is?” Lance asked.

Minerva shook her head. She said, “I think he’s shy.”

“Shy?”

“I mean, look at him! I think he doesn’t know what to expect from us, or what we expect from him, so he gets nervous.”

Lance couldn’t picture Lotor – Prince Lotor, of the Galra Empire, who had defeated The Legendary Voltron in battle after battle – feeling _nervous_.

He said, “Do you think maybe he’s just putting it on? Making himself seem weaker so that we underestimate him.”

“No,” Minerva said. “From what I know of Lotor, everything he does is planned, and he would never do anything that wouldn’t benefit him in some way. How would _us_ thinking him weaker than he is benefit him in any way?”

Lance didn’t know, but he thought that there must be something. He just couldn’t picture Lotor as anything but the confidant, calculating villain that he had come to know. The notion that _Prince_ _Lotor_ was nervous around _pretty_ _people_ was legitimately the most ridiculous thing Lance had ever heard. 

He was just about to say that to Minerva when, suddenly, a hand clamped around her wrist.

Minerva gasped, and Lance was immediately on edge. 

“Hey,” the Galra said. Minerva relaxed when she realised that it was just the soldier she was accompanying for the night, but Lance was not so quick to let down his guard.

“Can I assist you?” Minerva asked pleasantly, her smile as pretty as it was plastic.

The guard nodded, almost dumbly. “I want you to go dance.” 

“With you?” Minerva asked.

“No,” the guard said. “With one of the others. _This_   _one_ ,” he said, nodding his head towards Lance, “if it pleases you.”

“It does,” Minerva said. She offered her hand to Lance, and he hesitated for only a moment before he took it, allowing Minerva to guide him towards the dance floor that was already swarming with other Haries.

He could feel eyes on the back of his neck as Minerva spun around, her hands landing on Lance’s shoulders, offering him the lead. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to dance in front of all these people – to satisfy the weird desires of the men that would borrow dates from a Harem – but he didn’t want Minerva to get into trouble if she couldn’t satisfy a direct request from the guard that had her.

So slowly, Lance began to move.

He was slow at first, his movements feeling strange after so long without practice. He used to dance all the time, back home, but after the Garrison and Voltron and everything else that he’d been through, he just hadn’t found the time. 

Minerva, however, apparently _had_ found the time, and Lance found that he had to get over his lack of practice _quick_ if he wanted to be able to keep up with her. He guided her over the floor, her hips moving under his hands as he spun her away from the others, his steps becoming more fluid as the dance went on.

The dance, Lance noticed, was similar enough to one that he remembered learning back on earth, from his mother. It was quick and hot and he found himself remembering more and more of the steps as he led Minerva around the floor, accommodating her spins and jumps with an ease that he couldn’t remember possessing before.

Slowly, Lance noticed a decline in the number of dancers on the floor. As Minerva spun around, her skirt flying out around her as Lance chased her across the floor, Lance noticed that somehow, everyone else had left the floor, meaning that Minerva and Lance were the only ones still dancing.

Unfazed by the attention of what Lance was sure was at least half the room, he laughed as Minerva threw herself into his arms, her leg hooking around his waist before swinging away, throwing them into a step sequence that Lance had no idea how he pulled off. He let Minerva push him across the floor, dancing around him as he caught his breath, and it was then that Lance noticed the pair of eyes that had been boring into him since he’d stepped on to the floor. 

Prince Lotor.

He was staring at Lance with a heat that made the hair on Lance’s arms stand on end, and as he caught Minerva under the knee and spun her around, he found that he couldn’t look away. Lotor was watching every snap of Lance’s hips with definitive interest, his eyes intense enough to burn when Lance slid his hands over Minerva’s back, throwing her into one last lift before ending on a dip, her arms around his neck as they both gasped for air.

The applause from the people watching was deafening. Lance felt a grin stretch across his face, mirroring Minerva’s as she quickly dragged him off of the floor, eager to escape the attentions of what was surely the entire room.

Minerva’s Galra was waiting for them on the outskirts of the floor, and Lance let her go to him, watching with unhindered suspicion as he led her across the room and through the door, presumably to his room. She waved at Lance before she disappeared, flashing him a reassuring smile before she was pulled through the door, surprise flashing in her eyes a second before she was out of sight. 

“You needn’t look so worried. My men know what I’ll do to them if they damage my property.” 

Lance jumped, gasping when he felt Lotor’s shoulder bump against his own. His hand slid against the small of Lance’s back and he felt himself shudder, the heat of Lotor’s hand staving away the chill the cold air had left on Lance’s skin. 

“Come with me,” Lotor said, already guiding Lance around the throngs of people to a door at the side of the massive room. “I need to speak with you.” 

The room he took Lance into appeared to be some sort of balcony, a semi-dome on the side of the ship made entirely out of glass. Lance could see the stars for the first time since he’d been on Lotor’s ship, and he sighed. 

He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed this.

Lotor said, “I have a proposition for you, but you don’t have to take it unless you want to.”

“What is it?”

“It has come to my attention throughout the night that having a former paladin of Voltron at my side is immeasurably advantageous. It has been pointed out to me by Ezor that _keeping_ you at my side may lead to my heightened standing among the other leaders.”

Lance nodded, “Right.”

“So,” Lotor said, “I want to request your services for the remainder of your time aboard this ship. You will continue to accompany me to events, and you will join me in my chambers every other night to promote the guise that we are, in the most intimate terms, _together_.”

Slowly, Lance’s eyebrow inched towards his hairline. He said, “You want me to _pretend_ we’re sleeping together?”

Lotor nodded.

“What in it for me?”

“You will not have to participate in the drafts,” Lotor said. “No guard under my command may request your presence in the way that they can any other member of my Harem.”

“You’re offering me immunity?” Lance asked. “What makes you think I’ll want that.”

“Your face when you saw Minerva being led away,” Lotor said. “I understand your displeasure – the custom of the Prince’s Harem is, I admit, rather barbaric – and I don’t suppose that you ever want to be forced to enter into that sort of situation.” 

“No,” Lance said, “not particularly.”

“So, my request?”

“I’ll think about it,” Lance said. He didn’t suppose that there was a lot to think about – the last thing he wanted was to be dragged off to bed by some brutal Galra soldier – but he didn’t want Lotor to think that he would desperately snap up any offer he gave him without a second thought. He said, “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“Right,” Lotor said. His hand was back on the bottom of Lance’s spine in an instant, and Lance steeled himself to be led back into the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are heating up now, folks!!
> 
> btw, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HknwP-87f3o) is kinda how i pictured lance and minerva's dance


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T/W - Rape, Abuse, Body Horror, Eye Horror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to all the minerva fans out there: i am so sorry

The next morning, Lance awoke with a groan. He was surrounded by warm bodies, hands on his arms and feet between his knees as he slowly blinked open his eyes. The girls that he had befriended since boarding the ship liked to cuddle, and while it was usually too warm an arrangement for Lance, he couldn’t deny that he liked the feeling of security that the girls he slept with gave him. 

He rolled out of bed with a yawn, arching his back as he stood, his arms folding over his head as his spine popped back into place. He’d slept for hours, barely even stirring as the girls returned from the rooms of their suitors. Most of them had shushed as they’d crawled into bed, whispering that they were alright as they told Lance to go back to sleep and stop worrying.

Only, Lance couldn’t stop worrying, because even by the morning, Minerva still hadn’t returned to the Harem.

She usually slept alone, on the edge of the bed where none of the others could reach her. She didn’t like to feel constricted in her sleep, unable to escape, and as such, the other girls took care not to accidentally roll over and grab her in the nights.

But this morning, when Lance rolled out of bed and looked over the girls, she wasn’t in bed at all.

He tried not to worry – after all, there were a few other girls that hadn’t returned to the Harem yet. Scara assured Lance that there were always a few girls that didn’t get back until late, but she _also_ mentioned that this was the first time that Minerva had missed curfew, and that had Lance’s anxiety spiralling even further into panic.

He couldn’t forget Minerva’s voice, the first day he’d come to the Harem, almost two weeks ago.

 _Some of them like to see blood when they use us._  

Lance couldn’t help picturing Minerva being beaten, bruised. He shut his eyes and all he could see was Minerva’s crying face, a brutal beast hanging over her, relishing her pain.

It was _hours_ later – hours of _worry_ and _panic_ later – that Minerva finally returned to the Harem. Lance’s initial reaction was relief, a lifting of weight from his shoulders that had been lingering all day. That relief disappeared, however, when Minerva lifted her head and it became obvious that she had been in the medical bay, receiving some serious attention.

Lance was with her in seconds. He pulled Minerva into his arms, gently wrapping his arms around her waist. She was taller than Lance by half a head, her chin level with the tip of his nose. She hugged Lance back immediately, positioning her head in a way that didn’t jostle the bandages on her face.

“What took you so long?” Lance asked, leaning away from Minerva to stare up at her face. Half of her head was wrapped in purple gauze, covering her left eye, ear, and most of her cheek. “What happened to you?” 

“Thorak,” Minerva said, “the guard I was with. He-!” The breath caught in her throat, and it was then that Lance knew that whatever this was, it was serious.

He caught Minerva by the arm, steering her in the direction of the closest chaise and sitting her down on it. Tears were rolling down her cheek, and through the bandage, Lance could see that the other eye was crying blood. 

Lance was immediately on edge, his shoulder shaking with anger when he again asked, “What happened to you?”

Minerva shook her head, covering her mouth with her hands, and Lance decided that he couldn’t ask her about it yet. She wouldn’t want to talk about it yet.

He said, “I’m going to get Scara to sit with you, okay? Scara and Lucia.”

“Where are you going?” Minerva asked.

“I have someone I need to speak to,” Lance said. “I’m going to fix this, okay? Just… give me a minute.”

 

 

Lance was surprised by how easy it was to get out of the Harem. The door opened when he pressed his palm against the pad, sliding away to reveal the single guard stood outside the door. 

He didn’t have a moment to turn around before Lance was kicking the back of his head, knocking him out. He dragged the guard’s unconscious form to the side and rested him against the wall, almost as if he’d fallen asleep on the job.

After that, making it to a computer panel built into the side of the ship was a piece of cake. Lance broke through the firewalls in the way that Pidge had taught him, accessing the medical files of the girls with ease.

He opened Minerva’s file, pushing down the feeling of guilt at invading her privacy, and looked at the entries. The file was completely clean, aside from two allergy notes and an entry made in the early hours of the morning. Lance read:

Minerva, daughter of Siexia, received surgery at 0300 hours to close a bleed following the severance of an optic nerve caused by removal of the optic organ.

Lance felt his blood run cold. He wiped any record of his break in from the system and re-placed the computer in the wall, erasing any evidence. Then, checking that there were no soldiers wandering the halls, Lance hoisted himself towards the ceiling and crawled into a vent.

He had a Prince to talk to.

 

 

Lotor was sitting in his room when he heard something crash above his head. He frowned, closing his book and turning his attention to the vent built into the ceiling just a moment before the grate came crashing down, the blue paladin falling through it a second later.

 _Well_ , Lotor thought, quickly concealing his surprise.

Lance stood, dusting himself off as he turned to face Lotor, a look of absolute rage encompassing his face. He said, “What is wrong with you?”

Lotor blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Lance stalked forwards, closing the space between himself and Lotor completely when he hand cracked across Lotor’s cheek. “Do you enjoy seeing others in pain?”

Lotor gasped, clutching his cheek.

Lance didn’t bother to wait for a reply. “Does it amuse you to know that there are lives in your hands. Do you think it’s funny that innocent people are getting hurt because of _you_?”

“I assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Minerva!” Lance cried, barely restraining his grief as he turned away from Lotor, his head in his hands.

“The girl you danced with?” Lotor asked. “What happened to her.” 

“Some sick _fuck_ ,” Lance snapped, “ripped her fucking eyeball out because _you_ told him that he could _do what he wanted_ with her last night.”

“What?” 

“You give these men permission to do whatever they want to those girls, and the worst part of it is that the girls think it’s _normal_. They’re grateful that they have such a good life when in reality, they are getting beaten and bruised and fucking _mutilated_ because _you_ told the guards that they could do what they want!”

“Lance!” Lotor caught hold of Lance’s arms, smoothing his hands down from Lance’s shoulders to his elbows. “Slow down. Tell me what you know.”

“Minerva,” Lance said, seeming too deflated to put up much more of a fight, “was with a guy last night, and this morning, she came back to the Harem covered in bandages. She wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, so I hacked into the medical files-” 

_He did what?_

“- and it said that she’d had surgery because she was bleeding out.”

“Who was she with?” Lotor asked. He tried to make his voice gentle, to conceal the anger thrumming within. “Do you know his name?”

“Thorak,” Lance said.

“Right.” Lotor let his hands fall away from Lance’s arms. “Sit there. I’ll be back with you shortly.” 

Lance nodded, silently moving to the chair that Lotor had been occupying a few minutes ago. He drew his knees up to his chest and Lotor felt, for an aching moment, that Lance was genuinely _hurt_ that this had been allowed to happen.

_That would not stand._

Lotor went to the door and let it slide open, turning his attention to Acxa, who was stood outside. “Find a soldier named Thorak,” he said, “and have him destroyed.”

“Sir?”

“He hurt one of the girls.”

Acxa’s face darkened immediately. She said, “Do you want us to make an example of him, sir?” 

A cruel smile spread its way over Lotor’s lips. “Why not?” He said. “Have some fun with him. Make sure that when you’re done, there isn’t a soldier on this ship that would even think of hurting one of my girls again. Understood?”

“Yes, Prince Lotor.”

“Good.”

 

 

Lance wasn’t sure why Lotor was being so nice to him. He had been almost _gentle_ when he’d asked Lance to tell him what had happened, nothing but concern on his features as he listened to Lance recount the events of the day.

He had disappeared for a moment, just after Lance had arrived, and he was sure that that was going to be the end of him. Breaking into the Prince’s bedroom probably _wasn’t_ the best way to keep hold of one’s life when on a military vessel, but if Lotor was going to kill him for it, Lance would consider it worth it, for Minerva.

But when Lotor returned, it was not with heavy weaponry, but with another gentle smile.

He said, “Thorak will be taken care of, as will Minerva.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t,” Lotor said. “It’s my duty to protect those girls. Though, if you are to be believed, I haven’t been doing a particularly good job of that, either.” He sat at Lance’s side, turning towards him with a serious expression. “What’s this I hear about my men believing that they can do whatever they want?”

Lance sniffed.

He told Lotor everything – about Minerva’s scars, about the girls’ belief that the men have permission to do whatever they like. Anger flashed behind Lotor’s eyes when Lance told him that the men had been telling the girls that they had permission to hurt them. Lance had never seen fury like it, overlaid with a concern and love for the girls that Lance didn’t expect to find there at all.

When Lance finished telling him what he’d learned, Lotor sighed. He said, “I didn’t know about any of that, I assure you.”

“I know,” Lance said. He’d seen it in Lotor’s face when he’d told him. “But that doesn't mean it isn’t happening.”

“It won’t be happening any more,” Lotor said, “I’ll make sure of that.”

Lance nodded, “Good. But-”

“But what?” Lotor asked. 

“That still doesn’t change that they can do some things. I mean, when the soldiers come for the girls, they aren’t allowed to say no.”

“I know,” Lotor said. “That’s their job. They get to live on the ship and in return, they service the soldiers.”

“But what if they don’t want to?” Lance asked. “What if they don’t like the guy, or they just aren’t feeling it that night?”

“What do you want me to tell you?”

“I was thinking about what you told me yesterday,” Lance said. “About me pretending that I’m with you?”

“Yes?”

“Well, you said that I could refuse to participate in the drafts, but I was hoping that instead of that, I could ask that the other girls not have to do it, instead.”

“Oh?”

“I just- I know that some of the girls like sleeping with the men. Hell, some of them _love_ it,” Lance thought of Scara, “but some of them really don’t. So I was thinking- what if the girls got to decide what they were willing to do, and the drafts were built from there.”

Lotor raised an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”

“I mean- okay, say for example that I’m really tired,” Lance said. “I don’t feel like going all the way with anyone, but I could go for some light cuddling.”

Lotor’s lips twitched. “Yes?”

“Well, then I could get drafted to someone who was _also_ only looking for some light cuddling. He would get what he wanted, and I wouldn’t have to do anything that I’m not comfortable with.” 

Lotor paused, thinking it over for a moment. “It’s a good idea,” He eventually said. He was resting his cheek against the palm of his hand, and his smile was handsomely crooked when he flashed it at Lance. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Lance said. He was honestly surprised that Lotor was going to listen to him, but he wasn’t going to give Lotor too much time to think about it. The next draft was approaching fast, and he wanted his idea enacted before it came around. 

“You will stay here tonight.” Lotor said it like a question.

Lance shook his head. “I want to be with Minerva tonight,” he said. He thought of her face when she had returned to the Harem, tear-stained and cracked. She would need all the comfort she could get tonight. He said, “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Lotor agreed. “I will send a guard to collect you, and we will discuss your request further then.”

“Great,” Lance said. He stood, feeling that the conversation was drawing to a close, and stretched his arms over his head. When he lowered them, he caught Lotor staring at his stomach, and he blushed. “Anyway, I’d better go, before the guard wakes up and calls for backup.”

“You knocked out a guard?” Lotor asked.

Lance nodded, “Yeah. My bad.” 

To Lance's surprise, Lotor laughed, and Lance felt a goofy smile spreading across his face. Lotor was still struggling to bite back a smile when Lance positioned himself under the open vent, and he felt the prince’s eyes on him when he jumped up and hooked his hands on the inside of the tube and pulled himself up into the ceiling. 

Back in the Harem, when Lance had a moment to think, he considered how weird it was that Lotor was being so nice to him. They were supposed to be enemies – the Leader of the Galra Empire and a Paladin of Voltron – but speaking with him, Lance found it increasingly difficult to think of Lotor as an enemy, or even a rival.

Nemeses or not, Lance was starting to see Lotor as a _person_ , and if Lance kind of liked that person as well, then that was just a problem for future Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do y'all think of the season 4 clips?? have i asked that already????


	9. Chapter 9

After their agreement to pretend to be together, things moved pretty quickly for Lance.

Minerva was healing beautifully, or so he had heard. She had been assigned to the medical bay until she was completely healed, and to Lance’s chagrin, he had not been given permission to visit her. Lotor _had_ , however, and he assured Lance (and the rest of the Harem) that Mini was going to be fine. The damage to her eye was minimal, by Galra standards, and would be fully healed within the month. 

That the Galra could regrow entire eyeballs after violent removal was just one of the facts that Lance had filed away to share with the others when he saw them again.

If he ever saw them again.

Another fact was that Prince Lotor was surprising stringent about keeping his promises. Two days after the incident with Minerva, Thorak had been brought in front of the entire populace of the ship (the Haries included) and brutally beaten in a duel against the Prince. After that, he had been banished to the far regions of space to live out the rest of his life as an outcast, shunned by both the Galra and the Resistance.

That Lance couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about Thorak’s fate was less concerning than the existence of the one fact that Lance would never, ever be sharing with the rest of the team.

And that was that Prince Lotor, leader of the Galra Empire, was _fucking stunning._

It was something that Lance had discovered quite by surprise, actually, and had been increasingly surprised by ever since.

It had started one night when Lance had been requested at the Prince’s quarters, and he had walked in on Lotor sitting shirtless on his bedroom floor, the muscles of his back starkly defined by the low light of the room. He was built elegantly, thicker than Lance but smaller than Shiro, his muscles graceful and lithe.

Lance had cleared his throat to announce himself and Lotor had turned around, his features sharp in the steadily darkening room. His hair was pulled back, as it always was when they were alone, and his eyes glowed eerily in the dark.

Another thing that Lance had learned about Lotor was that he valued a regular cycle, dictated by a steadily changing day and night. Because of that, he had the lights in his rooms set to follow the patterns of a typical night and day on a planet that seemed to Lance very similar to earth. Lance knew from experience that the rest of the ship didn’t follow this pattern, and he wondered if maybe the cycle Lotor followed was from a planet he had lived on once – the planet he was brought up on.

“I brought you a book,” Lotor said, when Lance stepped out of the doorway and moved to his side. They had taken to sitting together, though Lance usually had nothing to keep him occupied – Lotor must have noticed that Lance had been inching steadily towards him, trying to read what he was reading.

He handed the book to Lance, and he studied the cover with lifted brows.

“The History of the Galra Empire,” Lance read, casting a sideways glance at the Prince. Another thing that had surprised Lance was that there was a translation matrix built into the ship. He couldn’t speak the language that Lotor was speaking, or the languages of the girls in the harem, but as long as the ship was online, they could understand each other perfectly. He said, “Wouldn’t I be able to use the secrets in this against you?”

“You could,” Lotor said.

“And you’re still giving it to me?” Lance didn’t sound as surprised as he felt. “You trust me that much?”

“I trust easily,” Lotor said, looking back to his book without taking his attention away from Lance. “I see no point in distrusting people who have done nothing to deserve it.”

“That’s fair,” Lance said.

“But,” Lotor continued, “I have learned to distrust easily, as well. Cross me, Blue Paladin, and it will be the last thing you do. Do you understand?”

Lance couldn’t find it within himself to feel threatened by that. Still, he nodded, and turned his attention towards the book.

Galra history was, Lance found, a lot richer than he’d expected. The Galra were an ancient race – older than humans by millennia – and the book had so many interesting things to say about the expansion and destruction of the different eras of the Galra that Lance was practically glued to the book from the very first page. 

He had always liked History. Though, that was mostly because Shiro had been his teacher.

It was only after Lance had finished the book, turning over the last page with a satisfied smile, that he noticed that the Prince had fallen asleep beside him.

He had moved from the floor to a chair at some point, and Lance frowned at the realisation that he hadn’t noticed the movement at all. Lotor’s legs were stretched out along the length of the chaise, his cheek was pressed awkwardly against his shoulder, and his face was the softest that Lance had ever seen it.

He had always thought it clichéd, in books, when the narrator described how different someone looked in sleep. He’d thought it a ridiculous notion that hard could become soft, that dark could become light, just because a person had fallen asleep. 

Lance didn’t think it ridiculous any more.

Because Lotor _did_ look like a different person when he was like this. It wasn’t anything physical, Lance didn’t think. He didn’t look smaller at all, he didn’t seem softer – he just looked _different_. He seemed like less of a threat, was the first thing that Lance noticed. His shoulders were tucked in and his arms were wrapped around his torso and Lance couldn’t see any semblance of the man who had taken control of his father’s ruthless empire. Lotor looked younger, somehow, more peaceful. It was easy to forget sometimes that, while Lotor was the terrifying leader of the Galra Empire, he was only a few years older than Lance.

And he was _gorgeous_.

The realisation struck more numbly than Lance would have expected. He knew it already, of course – he had known it for a long time – but there was something about thinking it now, in private, with Lance stood over the Prince’s sleeping form, that made it so much more _real_. It was no longer just a passing thought in a battlefield, or a weird dream that left him panting and awake and covered in sweat. It was a real, solid thought – a thought that, if Lance wasn’t careful, could turn into something far more dangerous. 

Shaking his head to clear away any weird ideas, Lance thought that he should probably wake the Prince to move him into bed. But there was such a peaceful aura about Lotor’s face that Lance couldn’t quite work up the heart to disturb him. Instead, he went into Lotor’s bedroom and retrieved a blanket, which he settled over the Prince’s shoulders before he walked away, leaving Lotor’s quarters as silently as he had entered it.

 

 

The next morning, Lance woke up to find that he was surrounded by girls. Tall girls and short girls, humanoid girls and eldritch girls. A few years ago, this would have been Lance’s favourite dream come true. 

Hell, it was still one of Lance’s favourite dreams come true.

“Good morning, ladies,” Lance said, tossing a lascivious smirk at the girl who happened to be closest. 

Her name was Patala, and she had four arms and six eyes and three rows of teeth. She was gorgeous, of course, and all six of her eyes rolled when she noticed Lance’s grin. 

Another girl, Lara, said, “We need to talk.”

“Talk about what?” Lance asked. He sat up in bed, shifting slightly so that he wasn’t lying under the small army of women crowded around his bed any more. He said, “Is something wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Layla told him. “We just wanted to ask you some questions.”

“About Prince Lotor,” Scara continued. “We wanted to know what you did to him.”

Lance blinked, slowly. “What I… did to him?” 

“You had to have done _something_ ,” Patala said. Her red eyes glowed against her purple skin. “I mean, you’ve got him _whipped_. You haven’t been here a month and you’ve already got him doing your bidding.” 

“He isn’t doing my _bidding_ ,” Lance said. “He’s just taking a few things under consideration.” 

“In exchange for _phenomenal_ sex,” Layla said. “Right?” 

Lance felt his cheeks heating up, his eyes growing wide. He hadn’t thought about this – he hadn’t thought about what would happen if any of the girls happened to ask him about the Prince.

He said, “Uh… I guess so? Maybe?”

Lance had never been an excellent liar. He had learned from a young age that his mother could see right through any lie he could tell, so he had stopped trying.

Now, he was certainly regretting his lack of practice.

Scara squealed, shoving Lance’s shoulder with enough force to knock him back against the headboard. “Tell us _everything_ ,” she said, her leering grin wide enough that Lance could see the second row of teeth hidden just behind her first.

The other girls were smiling similarly, _desperate_ for details, and Lance sighed.

This was going to have to be one _hell_ of a lie.

 

 

He avoided the topic for as long as he could the next night, but eventually, there was nothing he could do but bring it up.

Lotor knew that he had something to say before Lance had even worked up the courage to ask. He said, “If you’re ready to leave, you don’t have to wait for my permission. You may come and go as you please.”

Lance jumped – he hadn’t expected Lotor to say anything – and he met the Prince’s eyes with something that probably looked a lot like surprise.

He said, “I wasn’t trying to leave, I was-”

“Yes?”

“I was just… trying to figure out the best way to broach an awkward topic, is all.”

“Oh?” Lotor closed his book and turned bodily to Lance, a single, manicured eyebrow raised. “And what topic would that be?”

“The girls in the harem,” Lance said. He glanced off to the side before returning his gaze to Lotor’s – he couldn’t believe he was about to do this. “They’ve started asking me things, and- they expect to see evidence of what’s,” he paused, “ _going on_ here.”

“Oh,” Lotor said. Then, “ _Oh._ I see. So-?”

“So,” Lance said, “I think we’re going to have to-”

At the same time that Lotor said, “If you’re not opposed to it we could-?” 

“Oh, sorry,” Lance said.

At the same time as Lotor said, “You go first.”

Lance frowned but said, “I was going to say that I could tell the girls the truth. I mean, it was probably going to come out eventually, right? And I’d rather tell them now than get found out later, you know?” He glanced at Lotor, who was watching him curiously, his eyebrows imperceptibly drawn. Lance said, “What were you gonna say?”

“I was going to say,” Lotor said, almost hesitantly, “that if the girls require evidence, we could _make_ some evidence.”

Lance felt himself blush at the implication. Cautiously, he said, “What do you mean we should ‘ _make_ ’ some evidence?” 

“I mean,” Lotor said, “that if the others are expecting me to mark you, then perhaps that is exactly what I should do.”

Lance swallowed hard, his face growing warm, and he said, "Okay."


	10. Chapter 10

When Lotor had said ‘mark’, Lance had been expecting some hickies - some messed up hair, perhaps, or some awkwardly mis-buttoned shirts.

What he had _not_ been expecting was for Lotor to shrug off his own shirt and wrap it around Lance’s shoulders.

“Here,” Lotor said, letting go of the shirt and leaving Lance thoroughly, suspiciously, _ridiculously_ disappointed. “So that when you return to the others, you’ll smell like me.”

“Will that work?” Lance asked. He picked at the fabric, repositioning it on his shoulders, and he could smell something awfully pleasant drifting around him. He wondered if the Galra had more sensitive noses, more private ideas about public affection, or if that was just Lotor.

“For now,” Lotor said. “It will look too suspicious if we escalate too quickly – we’ll begin with this and deal with the rest later on.”

“Right,” Lance said, “okay.” He tugged at the shirt again, carefully keeping his eyes directed at his face and not the (tantalising) bare chest just below. “Is that everything?”

“Yes,” Lotor said, “I think so. You can go now, if you want.”

Lance did want, if only so that he could sit in the bath and think about _what_ _the_ _hell_ was going on in his head to make him _disappointed_ that he wasn’t _kissing_ _Prince_ _Lotor_ _right_ _now_.

“Thanks,” Lance said, turning in the direction of the door and casting a wave behind his back before slipping back out into the corridor.

 

 

The next day, Lance stayed in the Harem. Lotor informed him early in the morning that he would be busy that evening and that Lance should enjoy the day off with the girls, and that was exactly what Lance intended to do. Minerva was supposed to be coming back from the infirmary today, and Lance was taking special care to make her return as comfortable as possible.

He was just fluffing up the pillows at Minerva’s secluded corner of the bed when, behind him, the Harem door opened, and two people stepped in. Lance heard a few scattered gasps, a startled sounding laugh, before he turned around to find out what was so interesting to the girls.

Lotor and Minerva were standing at the door. 

She looked so small standing next to the Prince, so tired and so pale. The girls in the Harem stared at them for a moment, collectively holding their breaths, until their wide-eyed stares relocated themselves to Lance. 

Lance didn’t have to be told twice. 

He moved across the floor as quickly as he could, running straight to Minerva and folding her into his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head as she relaxed into him, her arms wrapping easily around his waist. At his side, Lance could feel Lotor’s eyes on him like a laser, but he wasn’t about to let that make him bashful.

Minerva deserved the best ‘welcome home’ imaginable, even if Lotor had taken it upon himself to watch.

Distancing himself slightly from Minerva, Lance flashed her a smile. She looked down at him with two beautiful eyes, though one was slightly paler than the other. There was scarring around the paler eye, as well, the skin there slightly darker than the rest of her face, but there was nothing wrong with that. She looked gorgeous, perfect, and Lance had no qualms about telling her so.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Absolutely stunning.”

“Lance,” Minerva hissed. She looked pointedly to the side, where Lotor was looking at them with lifted eyebrows. Minerva’s cheeks flamed, but Lance couldn’t bring himself to feel embarrassed. 

He said, “If his highness is uncomfortable, his highness can kindly leave. Welcome back, Mini.”

“You mustn’t say that!” Minerva gasped, but she was smiling, and if Lotor was upset, he wasn’t going to show it now. “But thank you, Lance – it’s good to be back. And thank you for getting rid of- for what you did about Thorak. I appreciated it.”

“Well, that wasn’t all me,” Lance said, jerking his chin in Lotor’s direction. Minerva glanced to the side, flashed Lotor a smile, and Lance had to bite his lip to keep himself from grinning at Lotor’s modestly bashful expression.

He said, “It was no trouble – my only regret is that I was not alerted to the indiscretions of my men sooner.”

“Oh,” Minerva said. She blinked wide eyes at Lotor before turning them on Lance – frantic eyes that seemed to be asking for help, though Lance had no idea why-

Unless, of course, it was because Minerva and the rest of the Haries weren’t as accustomed to Lotor as Lance had become. Lance remembered on of his first nights in the Harem, when Minerva had told him that Lotor rarely asked for the company of the women he collected. Lance hadn’t realised until just then that his frequent visits to Lotor’s rooms were probably incredibly unusual – that he was probably the only Harie that had spent enough time with Lotor to be somewhat comfortable in his presence.

To Lotor, Lance said, “Well anyway, Mini looks exhausted, so we’re just gonna-” 

“Of course,” Lotor said, bowing his head once in agreement. “Perhaps, later on-?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Lance said, “I’ll come over in a couple hours, okay?”

“Indeed,” Lotor said, and hesitated for only a moment before turning on his heel and marching back out of the room.

 

 

Lotor waited for the Harem door to slip shut behind him before falling back against it, raking a hand through his hair as he did so. He had gone to the Harem mostly to ensure Minerva’s safe return, but also to play up to the scheme that he and the Blue Paladin had been working on. 

His plan was to include some light touching, a hug goodbye or perhaps a more delicate embrace, but as soon as he and Minerva stepped into the room, Lotor had known that Lance’s attention would be anywhere but on him.

Lotor felt no aching feelings of disappointment about that, however – he wasn’t upset that Lance had ruined his plan, or jealous that he had spent more time speaking with Minerva than with him. It was to be expected that Lance would pay more attention to his injured friend than to the Prince who had just begun ‘courting’ him a few days ago. 

At least, that was what Lotor told himself as he walked down the hall, remembering the amused glances Lance had shot him and the way he had dismissed him in favour of easing Minerva’s mind. On this ship especially, where everyone knew that it was solely Lotor’s good opinion that kept them alive, there was nothing the Prince loved more than a person who refused to lick his heels when in his presence. His generals were like that – Narti and Zethrid and Ezor and Acxa – and the Blue Paladin was like that.

Lance was like that.

 

 

As soon as Lance and Minerva were tucked away in the bathroom by themselves, Lance was reminded of how bad he was at lying. Lance had barely even closed the door behind them before Minerva was turning on him with a glare that could cut through stone, her arms crossed determinedly across her chest. 

She said, “Tell me, now.”

Lance didn’t think he could get away with playing dumb – he certainly didn’t want to know what Mini would do to him if she found out he had lied to her – so he said, “Do you want to sit down first? You’re looking a little pale.”

Minerva looked like she was going to resist, but at the last moment decided not to. He was just about to lurch forwards to check that she was okay when he stopped, something in the hard light of her eyes telling him to let it go and leave her be. 

She really did remind Lance of his sisters.

“So,” Minerva said, when Lance was sat and (almost) ready to talk. “What’s going on?”

“Okay,” Lance said, “what’s going on is-”

And he told her. He told her everything – about Lotor and his proposition, about Thorak and how his treatment of Minerva convinced Lance to take Lotor’s deal. He told her about the conditions of the agreement, the falsification of the relationship. There was nothing that Lance could keep from her, and nothing that he would try to keep from her.

The only thing that Lance didn’t mention was that feeling – that crushing feeling of disappointment that had been haunting Lance since it had happened. He couldn’t tell Minerva that he felt – what? – something for Lotor, and he certainly couldn’t tell her that he thought maybe – maybe? – he wasn’t at all disgusted with himself for feeling so.

When Lance finished, Minerva’s eyes clouded over, and a second later, she was falling to her knees. Lance caught her before she could get hurt, afraid that she had passed out from dehydration or some other Galra ailment that could cause sudden bouts of unconsciousness, but he realised as Minerva wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his throat that she was- 

That she was hugging him. He felt wetness, cold and heavy, soaking into his shirt, and he wrapped his arms around Minerva’s waist and held her as she cried.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever. Lance wasn’t about to let her go, and Minerva didn’t seem inclined to do so either. It was only when the tears had stopped, when Minerva’s shaking chest had calmed, that Lance dared to lean back slightly to look her in the eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Minerva nodded, biting her lip, and her fingers darted up to swipe two tears from her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said, shifting her weight to put a little less pressure on Lance. “I’m okay. I just- thank you, Lance. What you’re doing for me and- and for my sisters, is-”

Lance nodded. “It’s okay,” he said, understanding. He would have done just the same if the situation were reversed – if it were _his_ sisters that they were talking about. He said, “I just wanted to make sure that you were all okay – that none of you could get hurt like this again.”

“No one has ever done that for us before,” Minerva said. “Some of the guards knew – of course they knew – and some of the courtiers, but you are the only one who has ever tried to do something about it.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have been,” Lance said. He felt himself frowning, scowling, and he shook his head at the sheer notion that anyone could know what had been happening to these girls and not want to help. “Someone should have said something about this a long, long time ago.”

“I guess we were just waiting for the right person to come along,” Minerva said. “Waiting for _you_.”

Lance felt his cheeks heat up – hell, he felt his ears and his throat and the back of his head het up – and he smiled. “Well then I hope I was worth the wait.”

“You certainly were,” Minerva said. “Not anyone would have entered into a relationship with Prince Lotor just to protect me and the girls.”

“You know, it’s not exactly a real relationship, Minerva,” Lance said, though he couldn’t say for certain that he wouldn’t have walked into a real relationship with Lotor just to save the girls – when he’d read Minerva’s hospital file, he was ready to do just about anything to keep the rest of them safe. He said, “It’s just pretend.”

“Maybe so,” Minerva said, “but his scent is all over you – if it _is_ fake, you’re doing a damn good job of hiding it.”

“It _is_ fake,” Lance assured her, “and _of_ _course_ we’re doing a good job of hiding it – I’m a _tactical_ _mastermind,_ Minerva _,_ and Lotor is so damn extra that I wouldn’t be surprised if he suggested nuptials in the not too distant future.” 

Minerva giggled into the palm of her hand, shaking her head in that way she often did when Lance was so flippantly disrespectful to her Prince. She said, “Nuptials may be a bit too extreme even for him, but as for the other stuff,” she shook her head again. 

Lance’s laughter stopped abruptly as he frowned. He said, “What other stuff?”

“Oh, you know,” Minerva said, “stuff!” She gestured vaguely at Lance – at his face and at his neck – and said, “Touching, kissing.” 

Lance said, “We aren’t going to do any of that, Minerva. I mean, it’s hardly necessary, it’s-”

“Hardly necessary? Lance, everyone here is going to think you’re a prude.”

“A prude?”

“We can tell if he’s been kissing you, Lance – surely you know that.” Lance’s expression must still have been quizzical because, with a sigh, Minerva decided to take pity on him. She said, “I know that it’s not a human thing, but we Galra can see where people have been touched. If I were to poke you here,” she poked Lance in the shoulder, “I would be able to see my fingerprint on your skin for a few hours before it disappeared.”

“You would?” Lance said. He was suddenly intensely aware of how Keith had known about Pidge and Allura before he had – he was going to kill him when he got-

Lance shook his head. He didn’t like to think about home when he was around Minerva – she could always tell, and it always made her upset.

To distract himself, Lance said, “So what should I do?”

“I don’t know,” Minerva said. “Touch him, I guess. It doesn’t have to be anything _really_ intimate – maybe just ask him to touch your arm or you’re face just before you leave his room. It’s not that big of a deal, I don’t think.” 

“You don’t think,” Lance said, because for every second that Minerva had spent _not_ thinking, Lance had been _overthinking_. He thought about what they would do when the girls started expecting them to be kissing, to be having- to be doing other things, to be holding hands and touching bodies and- 

Oh, God, what was Lance going to about bathing. They bathed _together_ , and surely someone was going to notice that Lance hadn’t been-

Oh, this was bad.

 

 

When Lotor returned to his quarters, Lance was sat in a circle on the ground with all four of his generals. Narti’s cat was sat on his lap, shoving its face into his hand and making such noises of pleasure that Lotor was curious as to why Narti hadn’t stopped it by now. They all looked up when Lotor opened the door, and Lance quickly scrambled to his feet. 

He said, “We need to talk. Right now.”

“You really do,” Acxa said, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the Prince. “We’ll leave you to it, if you want?”

“Yes, please,” Lotor said, and the generals were immediately on their feet and heading towards the door. The cat looked a little unwilling to leave Lance’s arms, but when Narti clicked her fingers at him he went trotting after his master with a twitch to his tail. 

Suddenly alone in the room with Lance, Lotor lifted an eyebrow. “You’re early,” he said, walking into the room and brushing past the paladin in a way that very nearly knocked their shoulders together. “I trust that it is because of something important?”

“Yeah, actually,” Lance said, “it is. I, uh- I was talking to Minerva, and I told her that we aren’t actually _together_ , and- she told me about something that the Galra can _do_.”

_Oh_ , Lotor thought. That wasn’t what he had been expecting, but Lance’s willingness to experiment with different species should not have come as too much of a surprise. After all, Lance _had_ been almost willing to lie with Lotor on the first night of their acquaintance so long as Lotor was prepared to follow a handful of rules.

Lotor said, “A thing?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, “she told me that you can see where people have touched you. Is that right?”

Lotor blinked. See where people had- oh, he hadn’t thought of that. He said, “Yes, that is correct. It is not a rare talent, though not all Galra possess it – but it is likely that some of the girls will be able to tell that we aren’t-”

“Which brings me to my next question,” Lance said. Lotor’s heart thumped in his chest, wondering whether Lance was about to ask for what Lotor _thought_ her was about to ask for. The Paladin said, “Can I use your bathroom from now on?”

Lotor blinked. “My- _bathroom_.”

“Yeah,” Lance said. “It’s just that all of us Haries – that’s what I call us, by the way – go in the bath together, and I am _sure_ that there are a couple of things that they are just _bound_ to notice.”

Lance’s cheeks were flushed by the time he was finished talking – his species blushed so prettily, Lotor thought, their cheeks turning vibrant and red. He was almost tempted to change the subject, to ease Lance’s apparent discomfort, but instead-

Instead, he encouraged it.

Smirking slightly, Lotor stepped closer to Lance, cocking his head to the side. “What sort of things?” He asked, revelling in the way that Lance’s complexion darkened.

“Well,” Lance said, glancing away sharply before returning his gaze to Lotor. “They’re going to notice that you haven’t touched me anywhere lower than my neck-”

“Yes?” 

“-or in any of the ways that people who are-”

“Go on.”

“Are you-?” Lance frowned, his eyes narrowing in on Lotor, and Lotor’s teasing expression failed. Lance said, “You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” 

Lotor blinked, caught in the act. He said, “So what if I am?” 

“So nothing,” Lance said. “It’s just,” a slow smirk curved against his smile, “that two can play at that game.”

And suddenly, Lance was a different person. He stood a little taller, smiled a little wider. His eyes belonged to someone else, sharp and lecherous and _so very blue_ – Lotor could almost see himself in them they were so bright, shining clearly with the challenge.

Lotor said, “Is that so?”

“It is,” Lance said. He took a step forwards, sidling up to Lotor in a way that showed that they weren’t actually that far apart in height at all, and tilted his head to the side. “Do you _want_ to play?” 

Lotor’s eyes darted (hopefully imperceptibly) down to Lance’s mouth, which was still twisting into that _beautiful_ smirk, and he felt the back of his neck grow warm. It was something that surprised Lotor - something that he should have been able to control but couldn't. His own reactions - his won temperature - was something that he could usually control perfectly, and that he couldn’t control it now (because of Lance?) was something that caused him serious alarm.

Taking a step back, Lotor shook his head, shedding the implications and dropping them at his feet. He said, “Not particularly, no – you want to use my bathroom, you can use it. Is there anything else?” 

Lance frowned, his expression closing in on itself almost immediately, and Lotor wondered if he’d done something wrong. Lance said, “Minerva actually said that if we want to be more convincing, we’re going to have to touch each other – nothing too invasive, just in a few places that the girls will notice.”

“That makes sense,” Lotor said. “When do you want to start?” 

“It’ll probably be better to leave it until just before I go back,” Lance said, “so in a few hours, maybe? I’ll just sit over here until you’re ready,” he said, and before Lotor could react or reply, Lance stalked across the room and placed a book in his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUP, NERDS!! It's been ages since I last updated this fic but I'm updating it now so woooo!! I'm sorry that I've been so absent but I've been having one hell of a hard time in school at the moment. Those of you who follow my tumblr will know that I almost got expelled for calling a teacher's racist ideas racist, and after that I had to spend such a long time looking for alternative education that I completely neglected this fic. I am, however, back from the dead, and you will be glad to know that updates should be a lot more frequent in the coming months if only because this fic is actually one of the only good things left in my life.
> 
> SO ANYWAY! Tune in next week for some ;) ;) you know what :p


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